


i got it bad (soooo bad)

by hoppnhorn



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Blow Jobs, College Student Steve Harrington, M/M, Mutual Pining, Office Blow Jobs, Teaching Assistant Billy Hargrove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14142870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppnhorn/pseuds/hoppnhorn
Summary: Billy has a good reputation as an undergrad teaching assistant and a bad reputation as a one-and-done hookup. Steve is a persistent flirt and a frequent flyer during Billy's office hours. It's a recipe for disaster...or some damn good head.





	i got it bad (soooo bad)

**Author's Note:**

> Short, smutty nonsense written for an anon prompt on [tumblr](hoppnhorn.tumblr.com). Enjoy!

He never looks forward to his last class of the day. Billy checks his watch as he slips inside the small classroom, wishing like hell that today was a lecture so he could sit in the back while the professor teaches and say nothing. But, alas, today was the last day before spring break and he had a stack of papers to hand back. Papers he’d spent three days grading until he felt like his eyes were bleeding from all the bad grammar and blatant bullshit. The professors may not read papers anymore, but he sure as shit did. Being a teaching assistant was a sweet gig that he didn’t want to mess up. He got to go to school for next to nothing, which was a miracle for someone him. He wasn’t like the rest of his classmates, feeding off of family money. Billy had worked hard for his scholarships and his position in the honors college. Getting a stipend as a undergrad TA was the cherry on top, so he reads every word on every page of every paper and hates every _goddamn_ minute.

At least he’ll have a week to toss back some cold ones on buck-a-beer night at the local dive and, who knows, maybe he’ll even _sleep_ for the first time in a year.

Plopping his bag onto the desk, he flips it open and digs out the god awful batch of essays and slaps them on the table with a sigh. Thirty of them, at least five pages each, and only two A’s among them. He presses the pads of his fingers into his eyelids and tells himself it’s his last class. He’ll survive.

Students trickle in steadily until it’s exactly four o’clock and Billy perches on the top of the desk, knees spread as he addresses the room.

“I’m not going to keep you guys long.” He starts, trying to hold back the sigh of exhaustion in his chest. “Professor McKnight has office hours tomorrow until noon. My office...“ The _broom closet at the end of the hall_ part goes unsaid. “...will be open until two. If you want to discuss your grades, please _make an appointment_.” Billy makes eye contact with a blonde in the front row who beams up at him, like his irritation is somehow a compliment. It’s not. “That way we can fit in everyone before we all leave for the break.”

He turns, picks up the stack of papers from his desk and hefts them onto his lap.

“These weren’t great. I think some of you should reconsider the decision to _not_ read the textbook because…” He lets the sigh out, he can’t help it. “It’s getting painful.” There’s a collection of various snorts and chuckles in the room. He’s widely considered an asshole but somehow people always leave him positive comments on reviews at the end of the semester. He’s _“wicked smart and totally knows his shit_ ” and _“gives a shit and wants us to succeed”_. And for the most part, it’s true. Afterall, he’d rather read good papers than bad.

“After you get your papers, you can leave. Have a good break, guys.” Billy tries on a smile and it feels a little too limp on his face, weighed down at the corners. As he starts barking out names and students proceed to the front of the room one by one, he gives them each a small nod and an attempt at the same smile. All except the blonde from the front row. He gives her a half of a nod and doesn’t smile. Better to not encourage the bloodthirsty dick-eater.

He’s almost halfway through the class roster when he gets to a name that makes his throat catch a little.

“Harrington.” He holds the paper out and pretends like suddenly he needs to check his phone. Because faking an incoming text is the only thing he can think of doing to keep from getting overly flustered by the stupidly handsome man that sidles up the aisle to him.

“Thanks, man.”

He can’t ignore _that_ , now can he? Looking up, he smiles and _damn him_ his face actually manages the expression for the first time all day. Steve Harrington: junior, below-average student, a little ditsy, big fan of metaphors and a bigger fan of eye contact. He’s made Billy’s office hours a living hell on a few occasions, with his honey stares and adorable grin. Steve is the kind of cute that Billy likes to chew up and spit out, _has_ chewed up and spit out. A few times. He might be a good student and a decent TA, but he’s terrible at relationships. Or calling.

Blondie’s not the only dick-eater in the room.

“Have a good break.” Billy manages to say without sounding like he’s already imagined sticking his tongue inside of Steve’s mouth while he sticks his dick in his ass. But he definitely has, for weeks now. Reading bad papers is exhausting but _not_ jumping Steve Harrington has been torture.

“You too, Billy.” Steve holds his eye contact because _of course_ he does. It’s almost mean, how pretty the guy’s face is with those big eyes, cute collection of moles and pink little mouth. Billy tries to keep his eyes from thoroughly drinking in his black jeans and the fitted, white t-shirt under his grey windbreaker. Oh, he _fails_. As if he knows how much Billy likes what he sees, wants what he sees, Steve bats his eyelashes and smiles wider. The kid is practically begging for Billy to act on his worst impulses and sink his claws into all that fine, pale skin. He forces himself to look back down at the next paper and move on in the roster.

“Hensworth.”

Steve takes the hint and walks away and Billy definitely doesn’t watch him leave. Doesn’t swallow the hum of arousal in his belly as he memorizes the curve of Steve’s perky ass.

Nope. Definitely not.

* * *

Thirty minutes before his last hour, Steve books the last slot during his office hours. When he gets the notification on his phone, Billy moans out loud and flattens both hands to his face, drags them down his cheeks. He’s less than two hours away from freedom, he can almost smell the jersey cotton of his pillowcase, and now _Steve_ is going to be there. Good, because he really needed a thorough case of blue balls before he waddles home.

He tries to busy himself, find something to do for the next thirty minutes until Steve’s appointment. It’s a vain attempt to keep his imagination at bay, which doesn’t work. Not really. His work as a teaching assistant is done, at least for now, so he’s left with preemptive homework assignments. But, instead of reading the novel in his hands, he’s staring at the black letters and drifting far, far away.

His bed is the scene he sets, because let’s face it, he’s tired. He’s the kind of exhausted that seems to seep from his marrow until his skin hangs like wet cloth. But in this little composition, he’s not tired at all. He’s delightfully reclined, head propped up in soft pillows and legs spread, hands behind his head. The picture of relaxed. He nearly sighs just conjuring up the image.

Then he gives in and lets the rest of his fantasy unfold. Steve, naked and sheened with sweat and riding him, rolling his hips while he moans so sweet. _That_ gets him riled enough that he sets down his book, shakes his head.

He _cannot_ be sporting wood when Steve shows up. Looking down at his jeans, Billy wills his cock to calm down, to stop swelling in his pants from the desire to slide into a warm hole and stay there. Nope, not good. He thinks of the way his roommate’s sister had crawled into his bed one night, uninvited, and threw up on him. Or the time he’d left ground turkey in the back of the refrigerator for a month until the stink had overwhelmed his tiny apartment.

That slows him down a little, keeps him from riding the wave of arousal to the full mast. Billy breathes, calmly and evenly and forces himself to read a few more pages of his book. Forces himself to actually _comprehend_ the words on the page until he hears a soft knock on the door and he swallows, tucks the book in his bag.

“Yeah, come in.” Steve’s early, by almost fifteen minutes. He looks sheepish when he steps inside, a hand tucked into his jeans. Sheepish but _gorgeous_. Billy would sweep his eyes over every inch if he could get away with it, but he wouldn’t. What he does admire is Steve’s white sweater; it shows off just how perfect his skin is against his dark hair and deep, endless eyes.

“Sorry I’m early. I was nearby and figured…” Steve gestures like he means _why the hell not_ and Billy simply nods, holds out a hand to have the guy sit down.

“No problem. What’s up, Harrington?” _Besides me._

“Just wanted to ask you a few questions about this…” Steve digs in his backpack and produces his essay, which has been marked by Billy’s red pen. Not too much but enough to merit the big _C_ written on the front. Even with his pretty face and great ass, Steve was barely staying afloat. _Maybe if he spent more time reading and less time trying to make me come in my pants._ Clamping down on his molars, Billy shuts that thought down. “You said here…” Steve points to a comment in Billy’s handwriting, holding out the paper. “...that my argument isn’t supported. But I cited two sources…” He flips the page and points to another section. “...here, that support what I was saying.”

Billy holds out a hand and Steve drops the essay into it. Skimming the comment in question, he reads the surrounding argument and turns the page to read the sources. The whole time, all he can track are Steve’s hands, settled on his knees as he waits. One of his legs is bouncing.

“You found two people who restate the same argument you made, but you didn’t say _why_ you made it. Why it’s correct, or should be considered correct.” Billy comments, handing back the paper. “It’s one thing to say something and point to someone else saying the same thing. It’s another to find facts or theories that _support_ the idea you’re selling.”

Steve sighs, rereads for a moment before turning the page.

“Okay, so then there’s this part…” He points to a paragraph that Billy has simply crossed off the page. “...I’m not sure why…”

“You were bullshitting me.” Billy said, trying not to smirk at the bewildered expression on Steve’s face. “Repeating the same idea in a roundabout way just to meet a word count is bullshitting.” That cute little face colors and Billy grins. “Nice try though.”

“Really didn’t cut me any breaks, huh?” Steve smiles, his tone friendly and not at all unhappy.

“Not a chance.” Billy says, almost a little too quickly. Nodding, Steve tucks his paper away and Billy’s stomach twists. Surely that _can’t_ be all.

“One last question.” Steve leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. “What are you doing for spring break?”

Billy swallows and something wiggles around in his chest.

“Homework, mostly. And sleeping.” He goes for casual, noncommittal, but his hands twitch with nervous energy. What will he do for spring break? Himself, often. Until he can get through another half a semester without wanting to bang a certain pretty boy with a dopey smile. Billy knows better than to ask what Steve is doing for spring break; it’s shitty of him but he _knows_ that question will bring nothing but trouble. He stands, picks his bag up off the floor. “...if that’s all you needed—”

“So you’ll be in town?” Steve doesn’t stand and Billy hesitates, fidgets a little as Steve stares up at him.

“Yeah.” He can’t come up with a lie fast enough and Steve grins.

“Would you want to grab a beer some night?”

Billy’s heart drops to his toes, his blood all but stopping in his veins. Does he? _Hell yes._ Can he?

“No.”

The sad little turn of Steve’s brows makes Billy want to groan with frustration. He wants to so, so badly. He wants to haul Steve up out of that chair and spread him on his desk, spend a solid hour getting to know every part of him. But he _can’t_.

“Oh.” Steve looks down, his big mop of hair flopping down over his forehead. It pains Billy to watch him blush from embarrassment, makes him itch to run his fingers through all that soft hair.

“I can’t.” He admits out loud, which he knows was a mistake the second Steve’s head snaps up.

“But you want to?”

Billy knows he’s caught in a bind now, his hands sweating a little as he tries to pack up his bag.

“I mean, if I wasn’t your teacher, yeah—” He grits his teeth and hides a flinch. _Great, dig yourself deeper, dumbass._

“What if I dropped the class?”

He freezes at that, brow furrowed as Steve stands, meets his gaze headon.

“That’s stupid.” Billy blurts without thinking, shaking his head as he thinks of twelve reasons he could _never_ just drop a class. “The deadline to drop was weeks ago, you’ll just get an incomplete. You’d have to retake it to get rid of that…”

“I’m already failing.” Steve gestures to his backpack. “I mean, I spent how much time with you on that paper and I still got a C.”

“That’s just one paper.” Billy points out, frown only growing deeper. “Don’t drop out because of—”

“I want to take you out.” Steve steps into Billy’s chest as he interrupts, voice low and soft and smooth like cream. It sends a shiver down Billy’s spine as he stares, unchecked, at Steve’s lips. Lips that hover within reach. “If that means I have to drop this class, a class I’m already halfway to failing, to get a chance…” He moves closer, damn him, and Billy can’t move away. “...I’d drop it this second.”

He tries to disguise the longing that thrums through him, but Billy knows he’s done for when Steve smiles, lets his gaze drop to Billy’s parted lips.

“That’s still stupid.” Billy murmurs. His hunger is obvious, from the way his face is heating to the throaty tenor of his voice. Shaking his head, Steve is grinning from ear-to-ear when he leans in, hovers his mouth over Billy’s cheek.

“Do know what else I’d do?” The sensation of Steve’s breath on Billy’s jaw has him shuddering. It’s almost pathetic, how aroused he is without even being touched. His cock is erect and pushing against his fly, begging to be included in the conversation. Billy isn’t sure he could form actual words if he tried, so he settles for a small hum and Steve steps back, meets his eye. “I’d drop to my knees.”

And then suddenly he’s doing just that.

 _“Shit.”_ Billy hisses as his cock leaps in his pants. “Wait...Steve—”

“Yes.” Steve palms the hard ridge of him through his jeans. “Say my name again.” He asks, pupils so wide the brown looks nearly black. Billy flexes his hands, stares down at the scene before him and knows there’s a thousand reasons he should run from that room. Ignoring all those reasons, and every bit of sense he has, Billy leans closer and dives headfirst into hell. Carding his fingers through all that brown hair, he tilts Steve’s head back, bares his pale neck.

“What are you waiting for, _Steve_ ?” He asks with a little smirk. Leaning down, this time it’s _his_ mouth hovering, staying just out of reach of pink lips when he speaks. “Are you gonna suck my cock or what?”

He can feel Steve’s fingers trembling as his jeans are hastily opened and yanked down his thighs. The moment Billy’s cock is pulled from his black briefs, when his shaft is being gripped by a hand he’s imagined when fucking his own, his stomach swirls with anxiety. He shouldn’t be doing this. He _can’t_ be doing this. Instead of pushing Steve away and _bolting_ for the exit, he rubs his fingers on the underside of his chin, caresses his jaw almost lovingly as Steve looks up at him.

“Lock the door.”

As Steve fumbles up from his knees to go flip the lock, Billy sinks back into his chair, laughs as Steve races back to him with a huge grin on his face. It’s too much. He grabs the guy by the shoulders and does what he’s been dying to do since the day he first fell into Steve’s maple syrup gaze. Billy kisses him; he opens his lips to taste and nibble and tease with the tip of his tongue. Steve’s moans make his cock leap in his lap and he grips it, gives it a squeeze.

“Fuck.” Steve’s voice is rough and Billy sighs as the guy sinks to his knees again, plants kisses on Billy’s exposed stomach, bare hip. “You’re so sexy.” It’s exactly what Billy needs to hear. It sends him back against the chair, arching his spine as Steve kisses his cock. Billy gets his hands in Steve’s thick hair and caresses it, pets him.

“I’m gonna get fired.” He murmurs, half-lamenting and half-resigned. But if the pulse in his bulls is any indication, getting blown by Steve Harrington will be _so_ worth being fired.

“You gave me a C.” Steve breathes against Billy’s cock, flicks his tongue out to lap at the tip. “I don’t think anyone can accuse you of favoritism.” That sinful mouth presses, open and warm and wet, against Billy’s head and he groans.

“You’re definitely my favorite right now.” Billy teases with a heavy grunt. “ _Steve._ Please.”

His favorite, his pet, opens his pretty little mouth and takes just the tip of Billy’s cock in, laves the flat of his tongue against it and then slowly sucks him down. It’s back-breakingly good. Billy has to plant his hands on Steve’s shoulders to keep from pulling on his hair, thrusting into the slick, slick heat of his mouth. It’s _delicious_. Judging by the sounds coming from the back of Steve’s throat, he agrees. He moans on him like Billy’s dick is the best thing he’s ever tasted, swirls his tongue around and under as he bobs at a steady pace. It’s too much. It’s incredible.

“I’m so glad your essay is already in the gradebook.” Billy laughs up at the ceiling. “Or you’d be getting an A.” Steve hums on his shaft and Billy gasps, hands clutching at Steve’s sweater as he tries not to come. Tries not to unravel like a teenager after only a few minutes. But _the sounds_ are so wicked. The sound of Steve sucking on him, hollowing out his cheeks as he bobs, gulping Billy’s cock down his throat. It’s erotic beyond anything Billy has experienced, better than anything he ever could have dreamed.

While his pleasure builds, growing to a dull roar in his hips, Billy studies Steve with his hands. He pets his shoulders, tugs on his hair, runs the back of his hands over Steve’s slightly stubbly cheeks. The guy is beautiful, eyes shining as he looks up at him. Even with his mouth full, Billy can tell when Steve’s smiling at him, smirking at the way he has Billy teetering on the edge of orgasm in very little time at all.

It’s still too soon when Billy whispers, “I’m gonna come.” His hips curl up towards Steve’s face as the pressure mounts in his spine. He needs to thrust, wants to move faster, but Steve holds him still, hands on his thighs. It makes Billy rock restlessly in his chair, clutching at the soft material of Steve’s sweater as he chases his release, feels the beginnings of it pulse in his shaft.

When he spills into Steve’s mouth, the guy opens and Billy moans in ecstasy, watches that devilishly-talented, pink tongue swallow his come. Every drop that drips from his cock is sucked away, leaving him clean and depleted.

“Holy hell.” He says on a long exhale. Steve’s chuckle is a little hoarse and Billy loves it. He grabs him by the collar and hauls him up to kiss his lips, relishes the way they’re puffy against his. Swollen from _him_.

“So…” Steve pulls back and stands, leaving Billy to tuck himself away. “...I’m gonna go to the registrar to drop this class.”

Billy blinks and runs a hand through his curls.

“Steve—”

“I wasn’t kidding.” Steve says, walking back so his hips are nearly in Billy’s face. He’s hard, the outline of a pronounced and _large_ cock against his thigh. Billy swallows, nearly whines, and looks up to find Steve smirking down at him. “I’m dropping this class because I want spend all of spring break in bed with a drop-dead…” He leans down and kisses Billy with a tiny press of his lips. “...sexy…” He kisses him again, with enough tongue to make Billy chase after him when he pulls away. “...TA.”

“You are doing pretty _lousy_ in my class.” Billy says with a grin. Steve laughs against his mouth, then shoves him back in his chair.

“But I got an A on the last paper, remember?” He bites his bottom lip and winks. It’s enough to make Billy laugh out loud; really laugh. As Steve picks up his backpack, slings it over one shoulder, Billy slumps back in his seat, lets his muscles go slack. For the first time in weeks, it’s easy for him to smile.

“Meet me here at four?” He asks quietly, his chest a little tight before Steve turns back around.

“It’s a date.”


End file.
